I hate when he does that. I hate when he spreads his stupid lies on innocent women who never asked, but I hate even more that he does it to me. Not because I don’t feel beautiful. But because something weird happens in my chest every time he does. It’s a feeling I can’t name, can’t explain. But it leaves me feeling… vulnerable.
I don’t do vulnerable.
He slips the rose into my hand and for some reason… I hold on to it.
“This way.” He motions me to go left, putting a gentle hand on my lower back.
The other restaurants on this street are bright and colorful, but this one is all dark wood, with black seats, and low lights. It’s instantly comforting. I feel safer here.
Liam brushes my back again, and my stomach swoops.
May Day May Day, not safe. Formulate an exit plan now.
My eyes land on a green exit sign near the far wall, next to the bathroom. It would be so easy to run… but for some reason, I follow the hostess into the dining room.
Two feet in, I spot my opportunity. A woman’s phone is lying on the table while she leans into the man on her right, whispering into his ear.
I adjust my trajectory appropriately, and as we walk past the table; I swipe the phone and stick it in my pocket.
I smile at the hostess as she seats us away from the couple. I’ve got a phone and a gun. What more does a woman need?
Liam must have been here before because he orders for both of us without looking at the menu. I’m ravenous and don’t try to interject. I’d eat anything at this point.
The waitress takes our order back and Liam turns on me.
“Someone’s happy.” Liam stares at me, inspecting me to discern the reason for my sudden mood change.
I force my lips into a frown. “I haven’t eaten in forever.”
He grabs his glass of water, bringing it to his lips but doesn’t take a drink. “I was thinking it had something to do with the phone you stole.”
My smile disappears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leans forward in his seat, his gaze trapping mine. “I’m a thief, Cruz. If there’s an opportunity in sight, I’ll find it. And I’d like to point out that I, the world-famous art thief, passed on the phone, while you, the dutiful agent, stole it. So… who’s the bad guy here?”
How dare he point out truths right now. “First of all, that’s very presumptuous of you to assume you’ve accumulated worldwide fame. Second,youkidnappedme. And stolemyphone. I’m doing what anyone would do while being held hostage by a psychopath.”
“First of all”—he mimics my tone, holding up one finger—“I saved your life. That man wouldn’t have let you go. It’s not my fault your phone got lost in the process. And second, if you were my hostage, I think I’d keep you locked in my room instead of letting you wander around with a gun in your waistband. If you wanted to escape me, you could have. So my question is, Cruz, what’s keeping you here?”
I hate all the words coming out of his mouth, because he’s right. I could have tried harder to get rid of him a hundred times. But I stayed. For some stupid reason, I believe there’s something here for me. An opportunity to prove myself to my country, my team. Agent Ford.
Chills cover my arms, and I rub them for warmth.
“I’m here to ensure you get what you deserve.”
He leans forward, eyes alight. “And what do I deserve? After two days with me, what do you find me guilty of?”
“Kidnapping.”
“I saved you.”
“You…” Why can’t I think of anything else? For all his wrongs, he’s somehow made them right. He gave a homeless family a home, left money at the boutique, and saved me from people trying to kill us.
“Yes?” he asks, leaning even closer, eagerly.
“You… lie.”
“Hardly a crime.”
